


How I Met My Death Machine

by minkmix



Category: Naruto
Genre: A love Story, Hurt Kakashi, Hurt/Comfort, KakaIru Exchange 2019, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 15:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19444714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkmix/pseuds/minkmix
Summary: Hello guys,Here I am with my first ever fic exchange. My recipient is 'Voigreen'. My beta is the hotness of Jink246.And yes, I understand I'm terrible with titles.The three prompts were: (in summary)1) Fuinjutsu specialist Iruka but he keeps it a secret.2)  Kakashi mans the mission desk when he's on hospital leave because he's bored and Iruka is super frustrated because the man definitely accepts way-too-shabby reports.3) Kakashi comes back from a mission carried by his ninken and Iruka takes care of the ninken because Kakashi is in a life threatening condition and they won't leave.They all looked like fun so I more or less combined all three prompts into one fic. However, it got extremely longer than I intended so I am breaking it into two parts. (I want the second part to be better than it stands right now. I could post the rushed version but Voigreen deserves better than that. : p)This story is pre-relationship but they know of each other. And then really get to know each other. Hope Voigreen and everyone else can use it to at least kill a few minutes. <3-Minkmix





	How I Met My Death Machine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rahmiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rahmiel/gifts).



The reedy alert took a few moments to register. 

Iruka sat up quickly in bed; though half awake, to find a tawny-feathered hawk perched on the sill, broad wings folded at its sides, message clenched in a sharp talon. 

"Hello," he yawned. "What's this?" Blinking uncertainly, he glimpsed the still black sky behind the bird, stars obscured by the gray splatter of rain. The air was crisp with just a few hours before dawn, the chill of early Spring stinging at his cheek. The bird made an impatient and fretful squawk. 

By all appearances, he was being summoned. 

After fumbling to switch on the lamp, Iruka gently pried loose the compact scroll from the curled claw. Dragging a hand over his eyes, he strained through fatigue to read the instructions that shone dully in the yellow light. 

The neatly scripted contents provoked a small sigh. 

It was rare that he received orders like this but they came from time to time. The extreme upper ups often relied on the sensory types to aid any returning jounin that had lost more than blood on their way home. The ones that came back without the mind or soul they had parted with. Although Iruka was not gifted in the sensory arts, there were occasions when those particular talents weren't called for. 

Like the unraveling of a particularly tricky seal.

Not many were aware of his aptitude in the art of fūinjutsu nor had they bothered to formally assess his actual skill. Besides the Hokage himself and a handful of others, none knew of his expertise but he was fine with that. If knowledge of it got out, it would make him a prominent target in other territories. Maybe even get him into the back pages of the Bingo Book. An unsuspected secret weapon. Unassuming. Private. That is how he preferred it.

In fact, it was only after Iruka had by pure accident revealed some of this talent during a B-Rank mission it had become obvious to a few others that he'd been underplaying his abilities. His unusual and highly unlikely success in subduing several raging earth style nin from slaughtering his entire team had caught the attention of his superiors. All in all, Iruka conceded, there were worse ways to begin a career. Breakfast was out, tea maybe if he got ready quick enough. Stifling another yawn, he went to the closet for his gear.

He wondered what exactly he up against this time.

The notable ability to deal with unhinged jounin was a gift too often missed by the powers that be. Perhaps a reflection of the undisclosed disturbing number of elite nin that returned so changed. Iruka's ability had less of a rank and more of a demeanor. Most referred to it as:

‘nonthreatening’  
'unflappable'  
'calm' - a rare skill indeed for those bred for combat.

But after all, Iruka was not a teacher for nothing.

This new assignment still felt very different. The request had not come from the Tower but instead from a high ranking ANBU squad leader. It worried him more than usual when he had gotten to the bottom details of the scroll:

_Proceed to the southern wall entry 1 3. Genjutsu included in scroll will both strengthen and combine with unsealing tactic as required. Encrypted for Umino Iruka only. Report the discaste of irigant seal._

Irigant seal...

"Something new." Iruka murmured to himself.

It had piqued his interest above his misgivings. He preferred much more information than _that_ before going in. Nonetheless, he knew this sparse description might be all the squad leader had to offer. Gulping down a cold cup of tea from the night before, he set the scroll aside for the moment.

He had to get going.

Yanking the leather cording tight with his teeth to cinch the last of the armor on this forearm, he pulled out the rest of his special uniform made just for these occasions. Tugging the remaining straps at his thighs and chest left him satisfied that it was all in place. A lot more protection than usual, but with an unchecked jounin one could never be too cautious. All else he required was packed securely in his pouch. When he hit the packed dirt below his window his pace was quick.

There wasn't really a title for what Iruka was about to do. He'd heard the term 'handler' thrown around a few times. Iruka hated the word. It sounded like a term used for disobedient livestock.

The steady drop of spring's frosty rain stung his face and weighted his hair as he ran. 

~

When he arrived, the looming barrier wall was still lit with the wet night's flickering torches. 

This part of the village wasn't a place he visited very often. It was far from the main streets with no shops or homes to make it any less empty. But it made it a good place for the particular sub-gate he had been directed to. An entry that was used primarily by ANBU and other agents of the clandestine. 

This was a first. 

For this kind of work he was usually sent to a heavily-guarded and semi-destroyed hospital room or an ensconced private residence. Even the subterranean chambers of the Torture and Interrogation Force needed a little assistance untangling now and again. From a short distance in the trees he studied the small entry along with everything and everyone around it. The first thing he noticed, and felt, was the sickly grey light of a weakening seal. He was surprised to see only Izumo and Kotetsu had been set to guard the station. Both bore the same hurried thrum of frantic tension he’d encountered with the initial feathered summons.

There had assuredly been some sort of struggle. Both chunin were winded, weapons poised, spear tips gleaming but unstained with the cold rain. He hung back at the forest's edge, unsure how to proceed.

Kotetsu called out to him. "We knew you were coming!"

"We got clearance from the Third about eh ... " Izumo paused. "... about your status?"

Iruka groaned inwardly. There were going to be a lot of questions after all of this.

But he didn't have time to worry about that now.

Iruka's grip on the scroll tightened when the two men's nervousness began to mount against his own. There was still the unanswered question of why this unconventional call had such a strange sense of urgency. He drew close enough to get a better visual of the third person present. A body was sprawled across the entry's threshold like a discarded training dummy. As soon as he could make out the partially masked face he abruptly understood what the extra loaned genjutsu was for.

Hatake Kakashi.

Izumo inched between them before Iruka could move any closer. "Please... you gotta be careful," he warned in fogged gasps, never letting his eyes leave the prone nin. "....he's not himself."

Iruka partly understood. “Himself” was such a relative term for a jounin.

He had never been called to 'handle' the likes of The Copy Nin. A Sharingan trained shinobi was far too dangerous for someone in his pay grade. With the exception of the one fated mission that had propelled his humble career into the Academy, he'd had the unearned blessing of attempting to decipher the man's mission reports for quite some time. But a mission report was just a difficult piece of paper. Shattered before him now were the difficult remains of a man.

 _Why me?_ Iruka wondered as he reached into his pouch. 

The nin had been wounded seriously enough to ground him, surrounded by the strange light that moved erratically, remnants of an earlier cast seal. The soldier was struggling to stay upright on his knees, propped with one gloved hand on the ground. The other was clutched tremulously at his gashed side. Matted pale hair was stained pink against his battered face and visible neck where his mask had been torn. The worst damage appeared to be along his hip and upwards. It must have pained him greatly, Iruka thought, but most elite nins never seemed to register pain in quite the same ways most life forms did. 

Kakashi's uniform was glossy black and clinging to his ribs, the blood loss clearly the most pressing problem. Watching him desperately pant for air, Iruka felt nothing but an overwhelming dread deep in his belly. It was one feat to make the suffering before him end. It was quite another to do so at the risk of everyone's safety. 

Why would the ANBU let one of their own lie at the brink of death and send only a chunin to assess the damage?

"He's not sure where he is," Kotetsu breathed, though Iruka wondered how in the world he could have ascertained that. "Doesn't recognize us."

"He thinks we're rogue nin." Izumo added.

Steadying his breathing, Iruka attempted to realign his thoughts. 

"He called me Zabuza," Izumo moaned. "Do I look anything like that maniac to you?!"

"Not at all!" Kotetsu affirmed. "Not even close!"

"Be quiet!" Iruka hissed. “Are you certain he has no idea where he is?"

They nodded in unison.

There weren’t many explanations for that, Iruka decided. But then, he didn’t have explanation for a lot of things at the moment.

"Lower your weapons," he ordered in a steady tone, gaze locked on Kakashi’s heaving sides. "No sudden moves." The surplus tension brimming from both guardsmen made Iruka want to send them far away. In fact, relieve them of their posts altogether to go find some tea. Iruka was painfully aware that the distressed mess in front of him had the potential to make them all a colorful smear on the earth if provoked. His only hope was that he had lost too much chakra to execute a death strike. 

The masked Copy nin had one eye fixed on him. It made Iruka acutely aware of how fast his heart was beating against his breastplate. 

Glancing around to see what he had to work with, he wished there was more light besides the wavering torches perched high on the wall above. That and the silvery swirl of the bizarre seal that was turning counter clock wise then clock wise in concentric lazy circles with Kakashi at its center. Pushing all fears of stray lightning bolts aside, Iruka readied himself for what he came for.

His job.

Iruka crept as close to the rotating edge of light as he dared. With its sensitivity, it was impossible to get any closer than a dozen feet of the wounded nin. Iruka swallowed hard. It was draining the jounin dry. This close, Iruka could feel the low thrum of its pull. If his physical wounds didn't end Kakashi, this chakra sucking seal surely would.

As though to prove him right, the undulating flow of the overlapping circles suddenly flared and stuttered. With a harsh groan from the jounin, the protective barrier spasmed to half its circumference.

Iruka closed the new distance immediately. 

"Kakashi." He tested, voice low and even. Sometimes their given name was enough anchor. The jounin stiffened at the sound. To Iruka's surprise he replied with a measure of coherency.

"S-Stay....." the nin rasped. "...stay back..."

Iruka felt the men behind him tense and he grit his teeth. The Tower had sent Hatake Kakashi out alone to face a power so great that it could reduce one of the Leaf's crown jewels of war down to this?

"Any more intel?' he asked curtly over his shoulder. 

"All we know is that he showed up about an hour ago," Izumo murmured. "That seal popped up when we tried bring him to the hospital."

"He didn't like that idea too much," Kotetsu shifted uncertainty in his stance. "And then we got orders to just make sure he didn't take off." 

Iruka didn't see the possibility of standing coming any time soon for Kakashi-san, let alone flight. 

"The ANBU," Izumo said. "They should be here."

Iruka had figured out that part at least. "If he feels threatened enough he might scrape up enough power to attack and..." 

"It would kill him." Kotetsu finished grimly. "And us too."

At that moment, Kakashi's one supporting arm gave out and he made the short journey to the ground right onto his seeping side. The ragged cry he let out made all three of them flinch. Iruka realized he had been using that one arm because the one clutching his side was broken.

"Ah no..." Izumo fidgeted helplessly." _Look at him._ Do something Iruka!"

"R-Right."

The scroll in his hand pulsed warm and then hot as his chakra activated it. He recognized the genjutsu that had been granted him, a variation of it anyway. It allowed a fusion with other techniques. Like entering another seal into Kakashi's to disrupt it from its source and then further use the genjutsu to affect his senses. A source that Kakashi, from the feel of it, had created himself out of the remaining wisps of chakra and a very fierce will to survive.

Iruka, despite the circumstances, found himself impressed. It was a design meant to keep all out and one in. A self-conjured seal that selective was extremely rare. He flicked his wet pony tail off his shoulder and crouched down to get eye level.

"Let's start here then."

Kneeling further down, he pressed his palms to the vibrating ground and got even closer to the edge of the ward. Instantly his skin began to prickle and burn but he remained where he was. 

He closed his eyes.

Iruka had begun studying the art since he was orphaned. Sandaime had encouraged it, giving him access to the vaulted libraries hidden under the Hokage Rock. The very first he learned were the most basic. Seals fashioned by children as amusements, not unlike a game of cat's cradle. Some of the deadliest patterns could be just as simplistic but could cost the misstep of many lives. However, sophistication of construct, the intricacy of code, and level of complexity bespoke of their makers. Like undoing a trip wire, it was just knowing which line to cut. It was about knowing who set those lines and why they had crafted them in the first place.

Kakashi’s trajectory was protection.

With one hard motion, Iruka unfurled the scroll and let the lines of kanji spark and scatter gold flecks of chakra up into the air. He watched as they gradually coalesced then slid to join the churn of the mercury quicksilver that continued to spin around Kakashi's trembling form. The molten gold slowly entwined with the silver and Iruka blocked out all other sensory input. He had to concentrate or the whole thing could be over before it started.

A more wary jounin would have heeded his surroundings but Kakashi didn't seem to have the strength to accomplish anything more than to keep the sluggishly spinning wheel hovering in the glowing mud. Slow and bright like the blood that ran with it. Iruka sat back on his heels, rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck. He could blast the seal apart with another one or he could use the genjutsu to reach the jounin without words. The latter seemed less deadly for all concerned.

Iruka sighed.

Undoing this kind of seal wasn't all just formula and calculation.

In order to break this one he had to also adjust Kakashi's perceptions. That made the entire procedure more than a little difficult. There had to be something that could reach Kakashi enough to make him lower his guard. Iruka frantically searched his memory for the many times he'd seen this famous nin. Besides handing in late mission reports Iruka sometimes spotted him on the fringes of a forced social event. Or sound asleep in the tall grass by the river. He seemed to be permanently reading a book to avoid space and time. Iruka saw him often around with Team 7 of course. That was all he knew of the man. They had barely passed words beyond convention or discord. Was that all he really knew about him? 

No. That wasn't quite true. 

Checking his movements so as not to appear aggressive, he crawled closer, approaching Kakashi as he would a feral cat. 

There were the Stories. Rumors. Lies. Fables. If anyone sought to know Kakashi through the multiple paths that followed him, one would come out the other end knowing him far less.

Iruka's eyes squeezed shut in pain as the borrowed genjutsu abruptly lit up each channel of his chakra like a trail of ignited fuses.

"... _gah!_ "

And then something very weird began to happen. 

His mind was suddenly blossoming with possibilities he'd never considered. Like too much fyre flower tea, or a foreign history book, he began to rapidly and haplessly, form thoughts he'd never entertained before. And many were about Kakashi. Iruka hands sank into the wet dirt, his forehead resting on his knuckles. Had this unbreakable jounin always been somewhere on the outer edges of Iruka's radar? It must be because of Naruto and his students. No, not completely. There was something else. The intertwining seals under his hands dilated further and brought his train of thought along with it. 

He slowly realized he had noticed much more about the jounin than he cared to admit.

To Iruka it had always seemed like the nin was half-heartedly trying to appear as something ...akin to acceptable. Something closer to human. By design, Kakashi lived like a never ending day on a deadly ticking clock. He was admired but not befriended. Sought for but never kept. And yet he walked through the serene streets of the Leaf ever waiting to be called away to die so it would stay that way. 

Through it all he somehow managed to keep smiling.

It was odd understanding all of it right at this moment. Here in the rainy dark on the edge of the sleeping village. He kept his gaze locked on Kakashi's one wavering eye blinking back the rain water. 

Now he recognized that Kakashi's seal wasn't borne from rage.

No linger of killing intent. No heady trace of adrenaline hanging in the misting air. The fight had abandoned Kakashi.

To his utter bewilderment, Iruka now saw that Kakashi was... afraid.

It was then that the fragile egg shell of the legend crumbled right before Iruka's eyes. The abrupt awareness of the jounin struck all at once, making his breath catch in the back of his throat. The sadness. Loneliness. Despair. It took a few more moments to notice the warm tears that had started mixing with the frigid water on his cheeks. Miraculously, the two chunin behind him didn't seem to notice the seal's now rapid decline. Even if they were within the jutsu Iruka knew they still wouldn't understand why it was failing.

"Iruka!" came a questioning voice. "I don't think he's gonna last much longer...."

Blinking back his watering eyes, Iruka tried to center back to his focus. He gripped at his spinning head trying to shake off the strong connection he had unwittingly made with the other nin. Any technique he ever used on other subjects had never felt this intense, this violating... 

"It's alright." Shakily, he caught his breath. "I-I think I can see him now." 

With a weak smile he saw the disintegrating design the jounin had made was actually beautiful. Even as it began to ebb away piece by frayed piece and break apart in the rain. The fused jutsus Iruka had used were unlocking one bolt at a time and paving the way to make the last of the barrier vanish. He began to conjure something that he thought would dissolve it completely. A fabrication of a kinder reality was made much easier by the link that had formed between them.

Iruka summoned a warm breeze to stir life back into the jounin's bloodless cheeks. He created familiar noises to drown out the storm of a tortured mind. The measured twang of a shamisen. Sounds of distant laughter. Of street vendors calling out to passers by and the scent of charcoal grills. 

Treasures that Kakashi held dearer than his own life. 

"Can you hear the music?" Iruka tried as he got closer. "It's the Planting Festival." 

Kakashi weakly shook his head, soaked hair falling over his eye, still trapped in his pained delirium. As the last of the silvery whirl dissipated, Iruka lurched forward and caught Kakashi under his chest. With a gasp, he flinched violently at the touch and then stilled. 

Poor Kakashi was still lost, then. Still wandering. Iruka searched his pale face. 

"You may not believe me," Iruka whispered as the ANBU sentries at last began to materialize. One by one, they dropped to the ground silent as the raindrops. They had come for Kakashi, whose heart still stuttered uneasily beneath Iruka’s palm. "But you are safe."

Beyond care, Iruka placed two gentle fingers on the quaking eyelid and closed it.

Darkness. It was the closest to peace he could offer.

~

Pain was always the first to welcome Kakashi back. Like an old unwanted friend. Before all other faculties, pain must have its say. 

Awareness returned in episodes. Surface and resurface. Blackness and blurred silhouettes became his world until both mind and body were on speaking terms again. Panic, flared warnings, and dimly-lit dimensions drifted to the surface of his battered brain.

By and by these solidified. 

Kakashi reasoned that he must have survived by the Sharingan. It could have functioned even without sufficient blood flow. Agony told a different story. The constant gnawing ache in his side recalled the hit and the shattering of bone. The strained drag with each exhale a reminder he’d caught a blade between the ribs. Shrapnel rebound scattered by ignition paper bombs. There had been a physical fight that demolished him. Dissolved him into pure instinct. It was confusing now. The pictures with brutal sensations at first, drawing guttural noises from behind a tube pushing oxygen down his throat.

Shards of his memory drowned out the metronome of his pulse. 

The next time he aware of anything, he knew something was on his face that shouldn't be. After shaking his head back and forth he realized he'd been blindfolded. But his limbs had been left curiously unrestrained. He quickly found out why. His body was paralyzed by chakra depletion and he couldn't move much of anything. After the third or fourth day of sweating and shivering through the onslaught of waking, he found he had command of at least of one of his arms again. The other arm was wrapped in bandages and encased in plaster.

Pulling the padded gauze away from his eyes he found the room around him was pitch black. 

Through the pain, he blinked open the Sharingan once more to relay informational snapshots. The walls and their peripheries. His surroundings and their boundaries.The bed beneath him. He was desperately trying to piece together an explanation. But the Sharingan could only project truths about his physical space. It could not explain why he was still alive.

He became slowly aware of the sensation of taking in air although it was absurdly difficult. A numb hand found the tubing protruding from his mouth and snaked down his throat. He'd forgotten it was there. With one hard and hellish yank, it was removed.

Kakashi gagged and choked, gasped and wheezed, and appreciated every second.

He knew at some point or another he had turned on the ones that tended to him. Kakashi silently praised them. Subduing him must have required several acts of heroism or dirty underhanded brutality. Sound came back in fuzzy radio feed, hushed voices surrounding his bedside, listing stats, and speaking his name as though it were a curse word. Cool latex pressure on his burning skin. Another needle embedded in his arm, connected to fluid. A catheter. This could only mean he was still running a fever.

The haze of his mind started to rise and meet reality one jarring sensation at a time.

Kakashi's memory stuttered with a sudden vivid jolt.

An ice bath administered by six sets of muscular arms all on a strict time table. Apparently in the interest of keeping him alive, their sole purpose had been to take escape or respite out of the equation.

His weakened body had been no match.

Frigid water ignited every stitch and still-mending wound on his body, fanning the pain into a blaze that made his throat close. Helpfully, he’d passed out before he’d collected air enough to scream.

By the time he awoke shivering naked on a bed he knew the real world was back in full force. He'd curled into a ball and willed himself into unconsciousness. One of the tricks of the ANBU trade. He could bite his own tongue off and commit suicide too, if things ever came to that.

He must have slept the week through.

Because the next time Kakashi’s eyes fluttered open he found he had been moved to another room. It had a large window that let the blaring sunset saturate every white surface to a foreboding red.

It was another hateful day.

~

Hospitals, he decided, were not unlike prisons. An abundance of limitations, timed visitations, and an overwhelming sterile stench. They, too, were heavily guarded as necessary.

Kakashi had been haunting the hospital's basement for approximately three weeks. It might have been longer but he wasn't quite sure. The realm of patient wards and exam rooms had been too stifling once they’d switched him to solids. So he quickly began setting his own parameters. He’d taken to nocturnally roaming about the facility, searching for an adequate niche.

Even after the nebulous stretch of time and gradual resurgence of his bearings, he still couldn't exactly distinguish when and where his dreaming stopped. The sub-level basement was as good a place as any to regroup and sort. It became his respite from the endless routine of therapies, medications, and probing doctor's hands which all claimed to be a condition of his release. Filled with yellowed crumbling medical records, equipment storage, and a long defunct morgue, it was very much where forgotten things were placed and left alone.

But forgotten was much easier said than done.

The decision to let him wander included an order that he be tethered to something much worse than meddlesome nurses.

A nanny.

"Sir?" A small, and unexpectedly young voice ventured somewhere far beyond the labyrinth of teetering shelves. "I know you're down here."

Kakashi's hand hovered over the next thick binding he had been about to pull from the top shelf and tilted his head in direction of the noise. If he remained very quiet, maybe the voice would give up and go away. In the dark he used his fingertips to search the rank and file of the crumbling folders and cardboard boxes. He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. The weak glare of the pale lamps barely lit the cavernous space anyway.

"We’ve been through this.” The kid reasoned, annoyance rivaling his own. Kakashi blinked rapidly at these words. Had they been through this? The rusty wheels of his brain grated sharply behind his eyes. He shook his head violently to clear it.

"You can hide all day if you want, I’ve got nothing better to do.”

The sound of the kid planting himself on the ground and flitting through his mobile phone confirmed this.

“They will stop serving soon.” The kid reminded airily, gaze locked intently on his screen. “You gonna eat or is this going to be like last time?”

Last time. Kakashi realized with sickening dread he had no idea what that meant. 

Kakashi shuffled stiffly down the next row of sagging shelves overburdened with bursting containers of old X-Rays. He hadn't taken any pain medication that morning and now he wished he’d had. He hoped the kid would be carrying something to take the edge off but that hope was slim. Moving closer from his hiding place, he leaned in noiselessly to get a visual on the nanny. Perhaps that would make things clearer.

It was a genin in his teens and therefore, by proxy, annoyed. A medical genin by his sleeveless white uniform and two short dirty blonde tufts of pigtails tied back at the nape of his neck.

He realized with a hard clench in his belly that he did recognize the guy--blurred suggestions of him anyway. Forcing water on him, changing sheets, wiping away any and all mess-- he might even have been part of the enforced ice bath brigade. It did explain the overly familiar tone and refreshing lack of fear. Gripping his throbbing head he groaned in frustration. His damn memory. His medical file, which he filched and reviewed periodically, claimed it had improved but it certainly didn't seem like it. 

"Don't pretend you can't hear me! I know you can. My mother's mother was a sensory!" The genin's blue eyes never left the tiny screen illuminating his face in the dark.

Kakashi frowned.

“I brought pills?”

Ah. Magic words. 

The phone’s light snapped off with a click and an exasperated sigh. “There you are.”

"Here I am." Kakashi voiced. It didn't come out as loudly as he’d hoped. Nothing he did had much force behind it these days. “You mentioned pills?”

A small plastic packet whizzed for his forehead. Kakashi’s palm was almost too slow to intercept.

“Thank you, Haru.”

"It's Haruki," the kid corrected him miserably. “Keeping track of you is a pain in the ass, ya know.”

Right. Haruki. Kakashi had forgot. Like he was forgetting everything. He only remembered the name was something strange and somehow seemed better suited for a pet rather than person.

"You'd remember my name and a lot more if you'd take your medications on time without a struggle, yeah?"

Kakashi opened his mouth to argue but changed his mind.

"So…" The genin shifted his weight from foot to foot, in a hurry to get gone. “Food?”

"I’m not hungry.” Kakashi didn’t have it in him to lie to the kid.

"I can't leave you here alone, you know that! After last time? I have no idea how long you'd been comatose in all this filth. You’re heavy, I’m tired, and I don’t eat until you do so let’s go now please!" He stomped his foot.

Kakashi's head drooped and he let his hand fall away from the rusted metal shelf. "I- I apologize, Haru."

"It's Haruki, and none of that? Just move."

Kakashi stiffly righted himself in the gloom, his ribs burning and his slung arm aching. He steadied himself with a hand on a water stained wall. He didn't try and attempt a pitiful henge or simply make a good old fashioned break for it. Instead he did something he knew completely and utterly how to do.

What he was told.

"Haru?"

The kid was busy stuffing over starched pillows into stiff pillow cases.

"You need more water, sir?"

Kakashi gave up many days ago on putting the breaks on all the 'sirs'. He’d been convinced into bed by his own body’s betrayal. Not drinking water for days holed up in a basement had its repercussions. Now he’d been fated to quiet rest and observing Haruki doing his daily tasks. That was the name. Haruki.

"Where did these come from?" Kakashi was trying not to reveal how hard it was to raise his hand toward the basket of fruit. It was full of autumn apples, but he couldn't recall anyone placing them there.

"Oh!" the genin started on another stubborn cushion. "They are from that teacher that comes around." He offhandedly gestured with a pillow case to the rows of single flowers sitting in drinking glasses. "It's too bad really."

"What is?"

"That you never seem able to remember him."

"He's a teacher." Why would some teacher be bringing him fruit and flowers?

"You seem to like it when he visits?" the medi grinned. "Always asks about you and brings his dogs."

Kakashi was half listening, his gaze going to the toss of the wind blown trees outside his window. It made the sunlight shift hypnotically across the bed and floor. All the leaves were colors of brash gold, reds, yellows, and rust. It was the season for apples wasn't it? He had left the village in Spring.

"Wait," he paused. "Dogs?"

"They’re messy," the kid made a face. "Jumping all over you! Doggy tongues and dirty paws all over my IVs. I mean... your IVs." he huffed.

"May I come in?"

Kakashi swung his attention to the door. There was a nin standing there in a general issue chunin uniform. Searching brown eyes and a hopeful look on a sun dark face. The jounin had no idea what to make of that or who the nin even was.

"He’s awake this time," the chunin looked to the medi-nin.

“Recalls time and date now too if ya wanna quiz ‘im," the genin added a wink. 

"That's good," the man nodded. "Did he try the fruit?"

Kakashi wasn't sure who this intruder was, but it was beyond annoying to be spoken about when he was right there.

"Not yet?" the genin bowed a little. "I don't think.. well..."

"Whenever you think he's ready for it." the stranger smiled. "Thank you."

Haruki started to do some more embarrassing bowing before he all but stumbled out of the room.

The chunin with the neat pony tail sat on the only chair by the bed. "It's great to see you so lucid."

He was supposed to know this person. He was supposed to know at least know his name. Kakashi felt a deep burn of anger well up so hard and fierce it tensed every muscle in his body. 

"And rested," the man continued. "You're shaking a lot less too."

Putting his memory back together had been like trying to reconstruct a shattered mirror that kept re-cracking over and over again. Clenching his jaw, his hands made and unmade fists. There was an audible crackle and spark that shot down from his fingertips to the floor, ending as a fizzle when it met the white tiles. A hand deftly caught his wrist and quickly forced it up so the dwindling white sparks would dissipate harmlessly into the air instead.

"Remember," the chunin said. "Your chakra may be depleted but you could still manage a trash fire. Control yourself."

Was this the teacher? Weakly twisting his arm in the stronger grip, Kakashi blinked helplessly up at him. 

The chunin was rubbing his palm against his trouser leg where the stray sparks had scorched him. This man, whoever he was, knew an awful lot about what Kakashi did and didn’t want or have. A grossly unfair advantage but one he was willing to live with so long as the man held his hand as long as possible. In an instant he suppressed his weak chakra and the meager fireworks settled, much to the chunin’s visible relief.

"Just give it more time." The firm hold eased Kakashi not so subtly back down into the pillows. "Your friends will come again soon," he assured him tiredly. Kakashi wasn't certain but he thought he saw a pained reluctance when the nin regretfully broke contact. "They knocked your door off the hinges last time so they've been issued a three day ban."

"Hm." 

Kakashi got a hold of the nin's uniform jacket to confirm he was real. He knew if he let go the man might slip away like the names of countries tagged on a map he was told to practice on. And then what if the chunin never came back to remind Kakashi of his existence? That remarkably kind face and soft brown eyes were at the moment all he wanted look at and it could all be lost in the cascade of his faulty memory. For some reason this person made him feel calm. At ease. He found himself clutching the flack jacket's collar even harder to bring him closer. The chunin curiously didn't seem to be alarmed by it, although the pale scar across his nose turned an interesting shade of pink.

Kakashi decided it was a little more than just charming. "My friends?" he prompted.

There was a snort of annoyance. "The dogs that ate my sofa," he grumbled.“Your pack.”

"..ah...probably wasn't a great sofa..."

"And my curtains. And plates. Who knew. " Iruka said with a wondering shrug. "Oh, and my mattress and one chair." 

Kakashi sighed. His ninken. Faithful messengers and comrades. It was useless to release them when the loyal pack knew he was this thoroughly incapacitated. But there was a surge of overwhelming peace. It was good to know they were safe and apparently very well fed.

"Will... you be back again?" Kakashi dared to hope as he began to slip under without the use of the hideous drugs. "The apples... may rot..."

The answer was soft laughter. "Only if you behave for the doctors."

Before Kakashi could fall into a complete and total twilight he had time to remember an important question.

"W-Who are you?"

"My name is Iruka."

“Iruka…” Kakashi repeated, delving back into his memory to relocate the sound. Maybe try to keep it. _Iruka. Iruka. Iruka._

"I don't mean to intrude?" the young medi-nin awkwardly cleared his throat while trying very hard to look at anything but them. "But it's time to check your vitals." 

He dropped several medical instruments with uncanny ease onto the mattress.

Kakashi suddenly noticed with alarm that the chunin named Iruka was now standing in the doorway frame, ready to excuse himself.

"Tomorrow?" he tried, lowering his gaze as the young nin wrapped a cuff around his bicep. “Please.”

Iruka considered it with a hand at his chin. "Well, it would have to be after school hours..."

“Bring my dogs.” He tugged down his mask.

It felt very safe letting this man see his unconcealed grin. He didn't seem shocked or affronted, but the pink of his scar quickly spread across his cheeks. Iruka blinked at him a few times before nodding and making it a promise. 

"We'll see you then, Kakashi-san." 

With another much broader smile, Iruka waved a small goodbye and disappeared into the busy hallway. Kakashi hoped to sleep through the night and most of tomorrow. 

That way it would be like not waiting at all.

to be concluded...

**Author's Note:**

>  **And thank you thank you THANK YOU Jink246! This would have never gotten done without you.**  
>  idbelostwithoutmybeta
> 
> **And THANK YOU to the KakaIru Fest Mods for all their work and unholy organizational skills! kakaIru4ever <3**


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